


Sketch

by j_crew_guy



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-05
Updated: 2010-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_crew_guy/pseuds/j_crew_guy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oz is a model for Angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sketch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Angel/Oz ficathon for transtempts, who asked for "velvet and books" and didn't want "cotton candy fluff". Hope I was able to do that. Thanks to Random for the beta, because she rocks like that.

Oz lies on his stomach. Naked. He lies on dark, crushed velvet the colour of crimson. He idly turns the page of the book he is reading and glances in Angel's direction.

Angel is focused on the sketch of Oz. His brow furrows as he draws, intent on getting the details just right. He was able to sketch others from memory, but Oz... Oz demands special attention.

Oz studies Angel's face as he draws. The concentration is impressive. Very few things can get to Angel when he's in the zone. Oz returns to reading and listens to the almost-rhythmic scratchings of Angel's pencil.

Oz loses himself in the pages of the book, a history of British rock from the sixties, until the sound of scratching stops. He looks over at Angel, who is frowning.

Angel looks down at the sketch and then up at Oz. "Not right," he murmurs.

Oz puts his book down and raises an eyebrow. "Huh."

Angel puts the pad and pencil down on the chair as he rises. He walks over to Oz and runs a finger appreciatively down his supine form. "I can't capture this," Angel comments as he prods Oz's warm flesh and trails a finger from Oz's torso to the velvet below.

Oz shrugs. "If you're gonna take a break, I'm gonna get up. That velvet gets you hot." He lays his book down, face open, knowing that if Giles were here, he would hear an exasperated sigh.

"Sure," Angel murmurs, distracted. He steps back to think as Oz gets to his feet. His torso is slick with sweat, and there's a wet imprint of his outline on the velvet.

A ray of light causes a bead of sweat to glimmer and catch Angel's eye. He follows it as it trickles down and drops to the floor with a barely audible plop.

Oz pads silently over to a wall and leans against it as he stretches. He puts both arms up into the air and wraps them around each other. Angel looks over at Oz, in this pose, and decides that this, more than anything else, is what he needs to capture.

"Hold that pose," Angel tells Oz.

Oz blinks. He nods and prepares.

Angel takes up his pencil and pad once more. He sketches. Oz follows his directions, turning in directions or moving when asked.

Oz closes his eyes and listens to Angel draw. There's a different sound to the rhythm now. Angel sounds like he's inspired. Oz decides this is a good thing and relaxes ever so slightly.

Sweat begins to trickle down Oz's forehead. He blinks, trying to keep it out of his eyes. "Done soon?" he asks.

"Hmmm." Angel pauses and studies the sketch. "Sure," he tells Oz.

"Cool," says Oz as he lowers his arms and stretches them again. He walks to where Angel sits and crouches down to watch.

Angel's hand is almost a blur as it moves, filling in minor details as it goes across the page. Angel finishes and hands the finished drawing to Oz.

Oz studies the picture. It's him. It's also hundreds, possibly thousands of lines made out of pencil lead on a piece of paper that just happen to add up to look like him. Or what Angel thinks he looks like.

"So that's what I look like to you." It's not a question.

"Yeah."

Oz shrugs. "Cool," he says as he retrieves his book.

"Thanks."

Angel wants to repay Oz in some way for his patience. Posing is never easy work and Oz did it without complaining. "Thanks," Angel says again. "For uh… posing," he adds sheepishly.

"No problem."

"If there's something I can do in return..." Angel's voice trails off.

"I'll let you know," Oz tells him. He has to think about this.

Angel watches Oz get dressed, watches as Oz pulls on his well-worn army surplus pants. Watches as Oz steps into his combat boots and snaps and zips them up. Watches as Oz pulls a faded blue t-shirt for some incredibly obscure band over his head.

"Later," Oz says as he takes his book and heads for the door.

"Yeah," Angel replies. He closes the door behind Oz, then looks over at the velvet where Oz lay earlier.

A touch reveals that the velvet is still damp. Angel pulls the cloth up to his face and inhales deeply, focusing on Oz's musky scent. Angel thinks that he would like to sketch Oz again.

Outside, Oz pulls a bookmark from a pocket on his pants and places it in his book. He thinks about posing for Angel. How he's sore and aches. Oz thinks that next time he poses for Angel, he should be sore and achy for other reasons.


End file.
